Reunion: Lockhart
by Bloody Vixen
Summary: Sephiroth would be the Chosen One but Tifa found 'Mother' first. AU & WIP. All chapters currently going through a major editing session.
1. Prologue

It stirred.

It felt the weight of the ages upon it, heavy and old.

Memories coalesced and searched…

Gone were its gifts, powerful and many. A mind once unbreakable was now lost; only echoes of anger remained, and a sense of futility mingled amidst them. Yet the instinct remained, as it should, thus not all was lost.

As long as the instinct lived, the Chosen would answer to the call.

And answer it did.

* * *

A tiny child made her way across the mountain.

A broken bridge lay behind her, a lonely boy its company: a lonely boy, who shouted far too late.

* * *

A mind, it felt a _mind_.

It was weak; fragile—_youthful__,_ but it had to do.

It stirred and spread and _touched_.

It was a mind of mourning, enveloped with loss and sadness all too mortal—and all too easy.

The timeless instinct roused; though many of its gifts were lost to decay, this one last bit would pave its resurrection.

* * *

_"__Mama! Mama, you're okay!"_

* * *

It stirred and spread and touched; then, it _consumed._

* * *

It was the Mayor who found them; the lonely boy cradled on the lap of his daughter. In his relief, he did not notice her eyes. Eyes that were once crimson were now tinged green, their pupils slit.

* * *

**A/N:** As usual the normal disclaimers apply. This fic is a WIP and was edited by **A Sorrow with a Human Heart**. Thank you so much, Sorrow, for your hard work! Also reviews and constructive criticisms are greatly welcomed. Many thanks to those who have read, reviewed and added this to your favourites and alerts.


	2. The Interregnum

Amidst the chaos, she remembered.

I am Tifa.

(Burn the memories; let the hunger flow.)

No. My name is Tifa. I am Tifa Lockhart.

(Don't fight it; sleep and let go.)

NO! My name is Tifa Lockhart! I am Tifa!

It knew this feeling; it was familiar.

(Its Chosen and Their Names)

I am Tifa! I am Tifa!

(But...)

I AM TIFA LOCKHART!

(It was not time.)

It slept, and Tifa asserted.

* * *

When Mr. Lockhart found Tifa, it took all his strength not to crush her with his arms. He had thought he could not feel anymore since his wife died, but as soon as Johnny ran to his door, his face covered in sweat and dirt, shouting about how Tifa had gone to the mountains, it was all Mr. Lockhart could do not too faint from sheer horror.

He had already lost his wife. Must he lose his daughter as well?

"Tifa are you all right?" His daughter was propped against the dirt wall; her dress torn, but he saw no signs of injuries. The boy, however…

The Strife boy was covered in multitudes of cuts and bruises. Mr. Lockhart noted that the boy's breath was shallow, and his face was scrunched up in pain. Tifa was carefully cradling him, whispering something in his ear, and taking no notice of her father.

"Shiva, we need to get him to doctor," he heard Robert exclaim behind him.

"Tifa…" A nod from her head indicated she heard him, but her eyes were locked onto Cloud.

"Papa, Papa please help Cloud! He tried to help me, but the bridge fell and he got hurt and it's all my fault!" she said before breaking into sobs.

"Tifa, it's all right, it's okay, sweetie. Come, we have to get Cloud to the doctor," he said and then carefully took Cloud into his arms. "Come now, let's go home."

They needed to be quick; the sun was setting, and he knew even his team could not hope to defeat the monsters that came out then. Only hours later did he notice that something was different.

Once Cloud was tended to, the Mayor went off to see his daughter. She was placed under quarantine, but the doctor deemed it safe enough for him to visit her for not more than ten minutes.

Part of him knew that what Tifa did was an act of grief; that in trying to understand death, her child-like mind made up the story that somehow, her mother had simply vanished beyond the mountain, and gone on a very long trip that she would not come back from. He understood the idea but it did not mean he was not furious (with her or with himself, he didn't care).

However, as soon as he saw her vulnerable figure huddled up on the clinic's bed, her face pale and eyes wide with fear, he felt the anger ebb away. In time, he would have to speak with Tifa about how dangerous her actions were, but that would be far in the future. Right now, all he wanted was for Tifa to get better.

"Papa…is Cloud okay?" she asked, her body shaking with fear.

"He's fine, Tifa." It was the truth; the doctor said something about how unbelievably lucky the children were in surviving a fall that high. Cloud would heal in time and suffer no more than superficial cuts, bruises, and a sprained ankle. Tifa, he noted, was near miraculous; with the exception of her eyes, there were no injuries at all.

"I'm sorry Papa, I know you said…n-not to go, b-but I wanted to see…" Her words dissolved into sobs and tears, and he gently held his daughter in his arms.

"There, there honey, I know. It's okay; just don't do it again."

Tifa looked up, hiccoughed, and nodded.

"Um, Papa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Papa," she apologised again. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone." Tifa thought about Cloud and how terrible he looked when she found him. She had been so stupid and she'd nearly killed both him and her friends. Her Mama would be so disappointed if she had done that, she'd probably refuse to see her—her foolish daughter who nearly killed her friends.

She did not realise that she had started crying again until her Papa's gentle hands wiped her tears aside.

"I'm stupid, Papa," she hiccoughed.

"No, Tifa, your _actions_ were stupid." She winced at her Papa's firm voice, and he continued, "…But you're my smart little girl, who will learn from her mistakes." He tipped her chin so that they met eye to eye. "From now on, you are never to go up that mountain without supervision, and you must _always_ tell me where you want to go, okay?" He did not need to tell her the consequences of what would happen if she did not heed him, and she nodded fiercely. "Pinky promise?" He held out his pinky and Tifa looped it with hers.

"Pinky promise!" she answered and enveloped him in a fierce hug.

"Excuse me, Sir? I'm afraid it's time," Nurse Mary, a stout, ageing woman with a kindly face, called out from the crack at the door.

"Can't Papa stay here?" she asked, tightening her grip on his arm.

"I'm sorry dear but Mr. Lockhart needs to rest," Nurse Mary said with a glance towards him.

"But- "

"It's okay Tifa, I'll stay," he assured her.

Nurse Mary looked worriedly at him, "Mr. Lockhart, the doctor –"

"I need to be with my daughter, Mary. Tell Doctor Garland that," he cut her off with a tone that brook no opposition. Nurse Mary had a face that wanted to suggest something else, but she sighed, nodded, and left the room.

He felt Tifa relaxing beside him, and saw those eyes staring up at him.

Mutations from Mako had been recorded, and he had witnessed first-hand what happened to any person who fell into a Mako spring or ingested a poisonous Mako plant for too long. It was never pretty, and it was almost always fatal. (That is, until ShinRa found a way to harvest its powers, but aside from the reactor and abandoned mansion, they were far away). So far, Tifa did not exhibit any known side-effects and appeared to be quite healthy, except for eyes that were now bright green with unnatural cat-like pupils.

They had been his wife's eyes. In looks, Tifa inherited his, but her eyes were all Sara's. Some part of him felt angry that this one memory of his wife had been stolen, but he suppressed it.

"Papa, can I see Cloud?" she asked, before a yawn escaped her lips.

"We can see him tomorrow. You need to rest and get better." He began to arrange the furniture in the clinic's ward to settle down for the night. "How about a bedtime story?" he asked, but Tifa's eyes were shut, and she replied to him with a tiny snore.

Suddenly, he felt the day's events taking its toll on his body. Every part of him ached, and it was only now that he realised he had not eaten since the morning. He had not brought a fresh set of clothes, and probably stank to the high heavens, but as soon as he saw his daughter sleeping on the bed, he realised he did not care.

His daughter was safe; that was all that mattered.

* * *

_Interregnum_

* * *

For any man, the draft for the Wutai War was a death-sentence.

It did not matter that ShinRa had better technology, their famous SOLDIER detachment, and excellent retirement benefits. Despite efforts (and threats) by ShinRa to portray the SOLDIER and army life as an exciting (albeit dangerous) adventure, rumours of horrific hazing, inhuman experiments, and unpleasant deaths still managed to reach the general population.

Some tried to protest the draft, believing that to force men to fight a war they did not believe in infringed on their rights as free men. Their protests never lasted long, and invariably faded as the war continued.

Sephiroth, however, was not an average man.

To him, the war was freedom.

* * *

When Sephiroth first joined SOLDIER (right and proper; not just simulations and mock wars), a 1st Class called him an overrated pretty boy. It took him less than a minute to prevent said 'title' from becoming popular by the rest of the army. (Unless they were very brave and about a continent away.) As for the SOLDIER, he was discharged honourably, and his diagnosis was positive—he would walk within five years or so.

"So, I heard you're very good." The man provoking him this time had auburn hair, mako blue eyes, and was dressed in red leather and an air of superiority.

The last challenger went home with a broken arm, and solidified Sephiroth's reputation as The Swordsman SOLDIER in the ranks. It also had the unfortunate side-effect of thinning the herd of challengers.

Until today…

"I'd like to challenge that." A blade appeared, red and heavy.

Sephiroth didn't bother to smile, but it came when his blade clashed with his challenger's. Rather than collapsing like most men, this one stood erect.

He felt his blood sing for battle.

The duel went on for two hours. The friendship would last longer.

* * *

Genesis, as he learned his name later on, was extremely persistent. While most men would have backed away after seeing what Sephiroth could do, Genesis kept coming back.

"Hmph, you were lucky last time, but let's fight this time with real swords!" One hour and fourty-five minutes later , Genesis came out from with an impromptu haircut.

"Well! Though you may have won the battle between blades, it's with Materia I will win this war!" One hour. This time Genesis left without eyebrows.

"Hah! Sephiroth, I doubt even you can best me with both blade _and _Materia!" Thirty minutes. Sephiroth mused whether to give him a brand new hairstyle or simply leave the man bald for the next few weeks.

Then, a stray Firaga struck a dragons' nest.

* * *

"You're an idiot, you know that?" a man with dark hair, mako blue eyes, and standard SOLDIER uniform interrupted.

"I was _this_ close to winning!" Genesis answered with an unimpressed snort.

"No, you were _this_ close to losing your head –" Angeal (his name was on his dog-tag) started angrily.

"-do you actually think that mere dragons could kill me?" Genesis retorted. Sephiroth noted that Genesis hid his pain quite well.

"- it doesn't matter! It's bad enough we're losing men to Wutai. Why must you go around trying to kill one of our own?"

"I don't want to kill him!" Genesis glared. "I just want to see if he's as strong as they say."

"What? The haircuts didn't clue you in?" Angeal then turned towards Sephiroth's bed. "My apologies, but Genesis can be incredibly stubborn," he said.

"I prefer 'determined'," the red-head exclaimed.

"I will try to keep him from bothering you," Angeal ignored him. "However, since my friend here can be quite hard-headed, could you at least try to confront him within the training area? While I do believe Genesis could use the exercise-"

"DUEL!"

"—e_xercise_, I'd rather prevent any more incidents like today."

Most men would rather face Bahamut unarmed than staring at Sephiroth the way Angeal did.

It was probably why he'd accepted.

* * *

After his discharge (which earned him a call from Hojo, that he promptly ignored), Angeal had taken to the task of making sure both Genesis and Sephiroth would hold to their promise.

Which was why, when they both approached the training grounds, Sephiroth had held his sword in the attacking position. He had analysed every angle and ensured that the victory that would come would be swift and involve some hairstyle changes.

Genesis was clearly not paying attention at all; instead, he seemed quite enamoured by a small book in his hand, the title of which was LOVELESS.

"…"

"There was a famous theatre director who recently joined one of the 3rd Classes," Angeal offered an explanation. "It keeps him out of trouble, anyway."

It was the first time Sephiroth heard a play being recited. He learned later (though he wished otherwise) it would not be his last.

* * *

Sephiroth knew what friendship was. He had read about it; memorised its meanings, symbolism, and various ways it could be made and broken. (Next to 'family', this was one word he researched thoroughly.)

That didn't prepare him for when it unfolded before his eyes.

Nobody in SOLDIER were willing to fraternise with him—too many broken limbs and egos to count—and he valued privacy too greatly to have cultivated any on his own behalf. His rank and reputation allowed that status quo to remain unchanged, and any friendly gestures were met with an impenetrable silence. He learned that this was the best way to avoid unnecessary socializing.

(Also… because friendship requires emotion, and emotions are bad, bad, understood, _take that needle away from me—)_

He realised that responding to both Genesis and Angeal the same way he did others simply made them hound him even more. Genesis, proud of his skills, made it his business to duel his 'rival' at any given opportunity. Angeal, who wanted to ensure no more 'accidents', would materialise soon after. (It made Sephiroth wonder if the man had been imbued with some sort of teleporting materia).

He was unused to it.

He found Genesis' habit of quoting lines from LOVELESS during duels incredibly irritating, and Angeal's insistence at every hour to rest, going through safety protocols both before and after every fight to be quite insulting.

"I know that you think this is unnecessary. However, it's not that I doubt you for being thorough," Angeal explained during downtime. Then he glanced at Genesis, who was busy examining his newest rapier, "…but it's not something one should take for granted."

"We are SOLDIERs; injuries heal rapidly," Sephiroth retorted bitingly.

"That does not mean it should happen," he sighed. "I don't like watching my friends getting hurt."

To anyone who saw them, Sephiroth's expression seemed indifferent, and Angeal treated it as such.

It was, however, noted that Sephiroth never complained about safety protocols ever again.

_(And in the future, when all was lost, this was the last memory he let go…)  
_

* * *

_resumption  
_

* * *

The letter on his desk looked ordinary, but then it was Hojo's skill to turn anything ordinary into something incredibly sinister.

_You are required for annual treatments…lack of updates, unprofessional_…And it was only the lack of Materia that stopped Sephiroth from burning the piece of paper to the ground.

Hojo must have known that he had a free and empty schedule. Usually he filled this up with meetings and training (dueling, insisted a stubborn red-head). However, it was the time of the Cold Peace, as the momentary truce between ShinRa and Wutai were called among the ranks, and both Genesis and Angeal had taken the opportunity to visit their families. He'd declined their invitations, though in hindsight he should have accepted.

Part of him wished the Cold Peace had arrived later, when he was officially twenty-one years old and legally responsible enough to distance himself from the Science Research Division. Though his eighteenth birthday meant being able to refuse any 'unnecessary' treatments, Hojo always found ways to turn them 'necessary'. The fact that the letter had the President's official signature made it clear he could not be absent.

He marched steadily through the halls of the 67th Floor. The lab assistants and administrators gave him a wide berth. Normally, this display of power gave him a minor thrill, but it was not enough to prevent every part of him from regressing back to the helpless little boy that he believed he had left behind.

The smell of metal and chemicals mingling always made him sick. No sword would make him flinch harder than a scalpel, and even when he thought he was immune to the stench, that man found ways to make it worse. And the mako—its taste lingered even after the strongest drink.

He felt dizzy and found himself using all his willpower not to shake.

It was probably the only reason for his momentary lapse of judgment. (No SOLDIER would have made the mistake; their reflexes were too good).

At first he thought he had lost control when his vision shook. Then, he realised that something had crashed into him. Instinctively, his entire body shifted into fighting position, his arm deftly disarming the creature that had collided into him. He was about to move in for the kill, when he realised he wasn't holding one of Hojo's mutated experiments.

It was a girl.

A little girl had bumped into him.

But it was not that fact that bothered him; neither was it the fact that he nearly hurt a child (or that there was _another_ child in the Science Research Department).

("TIFA!" a man shouted.)

The sounds of the world faded as he found himself staring into a pair of eyes.

Green eyes that were so much like his.

* * *

**A/N:** I want to thank Sorrow with a Human Heart for BETA-ing this chapter. Also, to all those who have reviewed, followed and favourited, its greatly appreciated.


	3. Of Many Meetings

"Sephiroth?"

"Yes, Professor Gast?"

"Do you ever feel… lonely?" An unusual question; sentimentality was never a strong suit with the scientist, but ever since the man's trip to Cosmo Canyon, Sephiroth had noticed a change in Professor Gast. It was incredibly subtle, but it was there.

"It never crossed my mind, sir," It was an honest answer. He never did…until now.

"I see," he commented, "but do you object to having company?"

It was a very curious and highly unusual question. Sephiroth took his time to answer.

"I prefer my own company, sir." He did not add, _'and yours as well'._ Hojo would never let Professor Gast visit him as often as he did if he knew.

"Hm, indeed. Continue on Sephiroth." And Professor Gast left the room.

That was the last time Sephiroth saw the man alive.

His was a special existence: that much Sephiroth knew. Ever since he was a child, everyone around him spoke of his intelligence and his unique physique, but the one thing that everyone noticed above everything else was his eyes.

He had searched far and wide, and though his signature silver hair explained itself easily, the eyes were truly his and his alone. If his parents had shared the same trait, Hojo would not clarify.

But now, here was a young girl with the exact same cat-like pupils, down to the same shade of green, and they reflected nothing but terror.

"Um, excuse me, sir, Sephiroth, sir, could you please put Tifa down?" It was one of Hojo's lab assistants; a new one, hence the respectful 'sir'. Hojo's more senior assistants had always referred to him as Specimen S.

The girl, Tifa, squirmed in his arms, "NO! NO! I WANT PAPA!" she shouted. It was a familiar call—though he never called for his parents; his was always 'Gast'. He didn't bother to loosen his grip.

"I don't think so," he replied to the assistant, who paled instantly. Sephiroth could imagine the boy's mind wrestling with the idea of standing up to him for Tifa or returning to Hojo empty handed.

Tifa, the small girl with his eyes, stopped fidgeting, as though she realized that the tall man with silver hair wasn't going to toss her back to Professor Hojo.

"Um, sir," the assistant began, but Sephiroth cut him off.

"No, it is obvious Tifa wants her…Papa," the word felt foreign on his tongue, "don't you, Tifa?"

Tifa didn't even need to be prompted; she nodded her head furiously.

"So, let's go look for him." Before the boy could retort, Sephiroth swept Tifa into his arms and marched away from the Science Research Department.

The girl stopped crying, and he heard her let out a tiny, relieved laugh.

He knew that Hojo would be furious, but at the moment Sephiroth didn't care. Here was someone who had his eyes, his supposedly one-of-a-kind eyes, and there were questions that needed to be answered.

Sephiroth felt his mind racing with a million thoughts, but all of them came down to one very important question: Who was Tifa?

* * *

Mr. Lockhart was nervous.

As soon as they had arrived at ShinRa Headquarters, Veld took Tifa away from him. He demanded to follow his daughter, but Veld shook his head and told him to wait in the lounge, as the Science Research Department was strictly for authorised personnel only.

Part of him wanted to ignore Veld's warning, but his more pragmatic side won. Though his favour with Veld might have allowed him this special request, he knew it was conditional at most, and he'd be wise not to do anything that might jeopardise his daughter's life.

Tifa, his brave Tifa, gave him a pleading look, but between Veld's impatient expression and the unspoken agreement, he could only say, "Tifa, be a good girl; these people are here to help you. They will take good care of you. Don't worry, I will be here."

His daughter sobbed, but held back her tears before turning to take Veld's hand.

"Another shot, Mr. Lockhart?" the bartender asked him.

He had to admit, despite ShinRa's reputation, they had one hell of an employee's lounge. With cheap but extremely good alcohol and free membership to a luxurious gym and spa, it was easy to understand why so many people on the Planet were willing to work for it.

"No thank you." He shoved himself away from the bar and started pacing around the area.

'Tifa's going to be okay,' he told himself. 'It's just a minor reaction; nothing harmful. This is just a simple check.' But even in his head, it sounded feeble.

'What if they'd never let her go? What if this was a trap?' he admonished.

Veld's man, Tseng, had tried to assure him that protocols would be followed at the moment, and that all they could do was wait until the department reported back.

Mr. Lockhart had triple-checked before he signed the release document. He hoped he never had to regret saving Veld's life. If they harmed Tifa, Turks or no Turks, he would have found a way to kill him.

It was already two hours since Tifa had gone up to the Science Department. 'Surely a routine checkup shouldn't take that long?'

He watched impatiently as every elevator door opened and closed, allowing the ShinRa employees to go wherever it was they had to go. He felt his head grow heavy – he wondered how long it was since he had slept – when someone caught his attention.

Mr. Lockhart had seen many interesting people throughout his life, but a six-foot tall man with long silver hair was not one of them. Especially interesting was that the man was holding Tifa in his arms.

"TIFA!" he called out, and his daughter jumped from the man's arms and ran straight into his, all the way crying, "PAPA, PAPA!"

His daughter felt tiny and fragile; he could not help but hug and kiss her cheeks again and again.

Then he held her at arm's length. Her eyes were red from crying, and he felt rage bubbling inside of him. 'What have they done do you?' he wanted to ask, but Tifa cut him off first.

"Papa! I want to go home! I don't like it here! Let's go home!"

Fucking Veld, he cursed inwardly. "Sure, sure baby, let's go." He was going to have a word with the Turk Leader, but now he needed to get Tifa away from this place.

"Are you Tifa's father?" a deep voice asked, and Mr. Lockhart remembered his audience. The silver-haired man looked at them with a most curious expression. 'His eyes…'

"Yes and you are?" he enquired, suddenly wary.

"I'm Sephiroth, SOLDIER First Class. I have a few questions to ask you," Sephiroth asked, "It's regarding your daughter, Tifa," he continued.

"I'm sorry, but as you can see, my daughter and I have had enough questions for today," he snapped.

"I understand, but I'm sure you're curious about these," Sephiroth waved towards his eyes.

"…are you with the Turks?" Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at his question. "…or the Science Department?"

"No," Mr. Lockhart nearly flinched from the coolness of his voice, "I'm only affiliated with SOLDIER, Mr.…?"

"Lockhart, Mr. Lockhart, Mayor of Nibelheim," he added.

Sephiroth gave him a look-over, as though he was searching for something, then he settled on casting an unreadable stare at Tifa (who stared back, he noted proudly).

"Papa," Tifa spoke, "He saved me from the bad men Papa," she said with awe.

"Wait, what bad men? I thought that it was supposed to be a routine a checkup?" he demanded, looking at his daughter, then back to Sephiroth.

"This is not a safe place to ask, Mr. Lockhart," a third voice chimed in. They all turned and saw a middle-aged man stepping out from the elevator doors, his blue suit indicating his status as a Turk.

Mr. Lockhart spluttered angrily, "Veld! I thought you said this was a routine checkup! Why is Tifa-"

The man in question didn't bother to look guilty but turned towards Sephiroth instead.

"Sephiroth, I'm afraid I need to remind you of your appointment with Professor Hojo," Veld said evenly. Veld had been in ShinRa long enough to know that he need not add what would happen if Sephiroth did not comply quickly. Hojo was in an uproar, and when he was, the old man would be disinclined to follow safety procedures that well. The last thing Veld needed was another batch of experiments escaping.

Sephiroth wanted to defy the subtext in his statement, Veld could tell. To be honest, if he was in the SOLDIER's shoes, he would have ignored the order as well, but Veld was a Turk and Sephiroth was a SOLDIER. If anything, Sephiroth respected the chains of command, and though Veld did not wish for it, he could make the First Class' life uncomfortable, no matter how highly favoured the young man was held in the eyes of the President.

"Indeed, one must not miss_ that_," Sephiroth all but spat the words. He threw one last look at Mr. Lockhart and Tifa, and then uncharacteristically stomped his way to the Science Department.

As soon as he vanished, Veld turned back to his audience, barely flicking his head to dismiss the eavesdropping crowd that surrounded them. Nobody wanted to get involve with the Turks, especially if whatever business they were dealing with involved Veld.

"I'm sorry Mr. Lockhart, you must be exhausted," he commented, keeping his face straight. "We should adjourn to my office," he offered.

"Now, Veld..."

"I insist," Veld stopped him. "It's regarding your daughter," he added, and he knew at once Lockhart would have to listen.

Veld had done many things that would have broken most men, but in all his years he never once regretted it. He acknowledged that his actions were amoral at best and unspeakable at their worst, but he did what he had to do for the greater good. Someone had to. Though Lockhart could count himself as one of the few people on the Planet to owe him a favour, it did not mean Veld would have spared him from what was coming, and he hoped for Lockhart and his daughter's sake, the man would accept.

After all, Veld wasn't about to start regretting his decisions now.

* * *

Tifa had been excited when her Papa told her that they were going to Midgar. She had heard of the city; Mama was a Midgar woman before she moved away and settled with Papa in the village. (She thought the meeting between Papa and Mama was so romantic.) Mama used to tell her of a lovely city with tall buildings and fields so wide, one could see only green for miles and miles.

Her Papa didn't seem too excited though, and Tifa wondered if it was because it still hurt for him to think of Mama…Or maybe it had something to do with those scary men in suits that came last week.

It had been a week since Tifa and Cloud left the local clinic. She knew she nearly did not make it, but her Papa fought with Doctor Garland, and Tifa was finally allowed to go home. He used such bad words that Tifa had to remind him to pay the swear jar once they reached home. Her friends were there to celebrate her return, and though she had been scared to see them—she nearly got them killed—she was relieved when Johnny and her friends told her it was okay.

"We shouldn't have left you Teef, we were cowards!" Johnny said vehemently.

"No, Johnny, it was my fault, I shouldn't have gone, we all could have…died," she choked on that last word.

"Nuh-uh, I can take on anything, I'm the Hero Johnny! Right guys?" Derisive snorts answered him, but Tifa couldn't help but smile sincerely for the first time in ages.

"Say, Teef," Johnny cocked his head to his side, "what's wrong with your eyes?"

Tifa looked down to her feet; she had nearly forgotten about her eyes. When her Papa first showed her the new cat-eyes she had gotten, Tifa cried again. They had been her Mama's eyes, and now, her stupid actions had taken them away.

'_But dearest, it's my gift to you…'_

"Huh, you said something Johnny?" Tifa turned towards the voice. (Except Johnny was a boy and that voice was definitely a woman.)

"Yeah, what's wrong with your eyes?" Johnny asked again.

"Don't know," she answered honestly, "but it makes me look like a cat," Tifa pouted and it was true. She wanted to say a 'freak' but her Papa scolded her and said never to call herself that.

"Nah, I think you look pretty, Tifa," Raquel cooed, twirling her hair with her fingers. "Besides, cats are cute," she sighed, wondering if her mother would ever allow her a pet cat.

"Yeah, you're still Tifa, cat's eyes or not!" Johnny exclaimed.

"Say, isn't that Cloud?" Raquel pointed towards the door. She was right. Cloud looked (more) awkward with the sling around his left arm. He was scanning the crowd anxiously, and Tifa could not help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards him.

"Yeah, I invited him," Tifa answered.

"Huh, why'd you invite the lose-OW!" Topher, the gangly nine year old, said mockingly before Johnny elbowed him in the stomach.

"DON'T CALL HIM THAT!" Tifa sprang on Topher furiously, "He tried to save me, okay! And he's not a loser! If you say call him _that_ again Topher, I'm never going to talk to you, _ever_!"

"Oh, okay, okay, don't be mad Tifa, I'm sorry!" the boy apologized, but Tifa had already left them and headed towards Cloud.

The stare Cloud gave Tifa reminded her of a Nibel Deer, wide and absolutely terrified. For a moment, she wondered if he was going to run away from her.

"Hi, Cloud!" she said before he could bolt. "Thank you for coming," she grabbed his hands, making sure not to squeeze the injured hand too hard, in a greeting.

Cloud's cheeks went beet red, and he could only squeak out a tiny, "…thanks,"

"Excuse me?"

Cloud coughed and tried to look everywhere but Tifa's eyes, "I mean…thank you for inviting me!"

"You're welcome, Cloud. You look very nice," she added, hoping it would make him feel more comfortable, but if anything, it served to make the boy even redder. 'It makes him look cute,' she thought to herself.

"Come on Cloud, let me introduce you to my friends." She started to drag him to the center of the room, but before she could, the door knocked again.

"Oh, let me answer this first, Cloud," she told him and opened the door.

Three men wearing sharp blue-suits stared back. One of the men had long hair, and the other was bald, but it was the mean looking one with the beard who looked at her with surprise.

"Um…hello?" she spoke.

"Hello, is Mr. Lockhart in?"

"Yes, to whom am I speaking?" she asked, remembering her Mama's lessons on greetings.

The man smiled, "I'm Veld, an old friend of your father. Could you please call him?"

"Sure, Papa!" she called out to her Papa, "Mr. Veld is here!"

She went back to her party and ignored the looks the adults gave to Mr. Veld and his friends.

Cloud was looking at Johnny and her friends warily, as though he was waiting for them to pounce. As Tifa tried her best to integrate Cloud into her circle of companions, she did not hear the angry exchanges between her father and Mr. Veld, or the other parents whispering worriedly to one another.

All she could remember was Cloud shyly playing with Raquel, and Topher begrudgingly acknowledged the blond boy's existence. Aside from the unexpected guest, the party went on well. As far as Tifa was concerned, she had made a new friend, and that new friend had made more new friends.

Life was good, and she felt as though she could smile again.

Then they went to Midgar.

Her Papa had explained to her that they had to go and see the doctors in Midgar to figure out about her eyes.

"But you told me it was okay!"

"I know, but Mr. Veld here is just trying to make sure it's not…contagious," her Papa reasoned, "…and it will be quick. Don't you want to visit Midgar? In a helicopter?"

Tifa couldn't pack quickly enough.

She had been in awe of the city, though she was upset by the lack of greenery.

"Midgar's the power center of the Planet; the Lifestream flows thicker here," her Papa had explained. Papa told her that the Lifestream was the energy of the Planet; it was like a river of electricity that kept the Planet and everyone on it alive.

"But where are the trees and grass and flowers, Papa?" It was an innocent question, but her Papa didn't have the answer. Not when the Turks were eyeing them with great interest. Her Papa warned her not to talk to the Turks, and answer as little as possible to their questions.

She couldn't help but dislike how the Turks made her Papa nervous; seeing him shaken made her nervous as well. It wasn't as though Tifa was scared of doctors, but she could feel something in her tremble with anxiety.

Even the sight of the humongous ShinRa Building did little to still the feeling.

("Once finished," Tseng, the long haired Turk had explained, "It will be the tallest and most hi-tech building on the Planet.")

It continued on when she was forcibly separated from her Papa; when she learned to fear men wearing white lab coats, and it churned when she saw _him_ for the first time.

She never understood it. Only later, when the void consumed the sky, and the earth cracked into oblivion, did she realize what it was.

* * *

"Tifa Lockhart will be inducted into ShinRa's SOLDIER division," Mr. Veld announced in his office.

* * *

**A/N:** Once again, many thanks to Sorrow with a Human Heart for her editing skills. The plot is coming - I swear! Also, a thousand thanks to those who read, reviewed, followed and favourited.


	4. The Dream

_"Tifa Lockhart will be inducted into ShinRa's SOLDIER division,"_

* * *

Her father's hug nearly crushed her.

There were shouts and something she never thought her father would have done.

He begged.

"Veld, she's only eight! You can't possibly ask this! You can't!"

The leader of the Turk remained still.

(He had seen the looks of desperate men and his reaction remained the same.)

"You have a choice…"

There were never choices with ShinRa and even their compromises were threats laced with kindness.

A folder, yellow and already thick with her name emblazoned on it made itself known on Veld's desk.

An unprecedented honour.

The first of what ShinRa hopes to be a female SOLDIER division.

To see his daughter becoming part of the greatest band of warriors ever known on the Planet?

What man would not be proud? What man would reject such an amazingly rare offer?

Naturally, ShinRa would not think about turning a young girl into a SOLDIER so soon (after all PR is Queen in the company). Instead she would be assigned a mentor to help her with basic training and she would of course continue her studies (except now she would have additional subjects to her academic repertoire); all this would be done in Nibelheim.

"A child should always be with her parent. Of course, once she reaches fourteen, she would be reassigned to Midgar. Nibelheim does not have the necessary equipment for further SOLDIER training," Veld continued smoothly.

'We did not have to offer you this,' went unspoken.

All his years dealing with ShinRa, Mr. Lockhart knew this was all he could do.

Veld laid out the contract. For a wild moment Mr. Lockhart wondered if he could outrun them all, seize his daughter and vanish from the face of the Planet.

He turned to his daughter. So young, so terrified and so, so fragile.

Then, those alien eyes blinked back and he felt his hand moved.

* * *

Hojo was apoplectic with rage.

Sephiroth didn't even get the usual sarcastic remarks that presided his coming. Instead the scientist simply barked at him to get on the table before proceeding to run his blood tests.

It was the state of things that Hojo didn't need to hiss for instructions since his assistants were already three steps ahead regarding his orders.

In all his life, Sephiroth only remembered Hojo being this angry only twice (both of them involved Professor Gast).

This time, he didn't need to guess what had the greasy haired fool in a twist.

Tifa.

Sephiroth rarely saw children. He had spent most of his childhood either on the military compound, surrounded by men at least twice his age or being fussed about by scientists. In the rare moments when children's books got into his hand, he found himself unable to comprehend what it meant to be a child.

The books he read spoke of adventures, often simplistic and fantastical of nature, of desires to be a hero, of friendship and most of all, of family.

He knew what procreation was and deduced that he was most certainly a product of a couple's union.

Sephiroth disliked unsolved riddles and though he found answers that could be forced into the puzzle, his history was like a hole that had no piece to fit in. He remembered during an extremely desperate moment he asked Hojo and all he got out of it was that his parents were both dead and that his mother's name was Jenova.

Any further questions were met with a brick wall.

He eventually accepted that that was all he will ever learn.

Until now…

Could this girl, Tifa, hold the key?

Could Tifa be a long lost relative? If she was, could Lockhart have known something about his mother? Or even…his father?

Veld was a nuisance but the fact that Lockhart was allowed to accompany his daughter and seemed on a somewhat friendly basis with the man spoke volumes about the Mayor.

He had to find out, he _needed_ to know.

* * *

Once he had signed the paperwork, Veld had someone brought them to their hotel room at ShinRa tower. It was larger than any room, no, any _building_ in Nibelheim. There were large king-sized beds, an exquisitely decorated lounge, a functioning kitchen, gold plated Jacuzzi tub and a state-of-the-art home theatre system.

Mr. Lockhart knew better than to think that this was in any way but a vulgarly disguised bribe.

(Veld could be as subtle as a brick)

Tifa, on the other hand, squealed with awe and as soon as the assigned Turk vanished from their sights, she didn't even wait for Mr. Lockhart's signal before bouncing off to try everything she could get her hands on. As she surveyed the Jacuzzi – her new eyes surveying the expensive toiletries – Mr. Lockhart found himself searching every single object with wariness.

He had no doubt they were bugged with some sort of surveillance system and he really ought to find out where they were but he felt the sleepless hours crashing through him. He heard Tifa switching on the bath tub and humming an old Nibelheim tune. If he closed his eyes he could imagine himself back at home, far away from the Mako stinking city.

As though by instinct, he switched on the television. There was a show, something about SOLDIERS and a badly costumed Wutai Ninja, but his mind wandered away and before long, darkness took him.

* * *

Tifa didn't know how long she had been in the bath tub, all she could remember was how exciting everything in Midgar was; she hadn't been able to visit the city proper as of yet but her Papa promised her she would be able to do so once they had rested. Everything was different here, people were more detached, always hurrying about and the men in the lab coats – she shuddered despite the hot water.

Then she remembered her hero. She had never seen anyone so tall or had hair so long (it was longer than hers and she felt a twinge of jealousy), but he had saved her from the bad men. It felt like those fairytale, where the Prince came and saved his beloved Princess from danger.

Even his name sounded so…Princely.

"Se-phi-roth," she whispered his name and felt heat creeping up her face that had nothing to do with the water.

* * *

_Midgar was burning. _

_Tifa watched, her green eyes drinking in the way the flames danced to the screams of humans dying. _

_She felt she ought to be afraid or even horrified, instead, she felt happy._

_Mother had been avenged and the cycle that was once broken was now mended and the journey would begin anew. The Planet's blood flowed and ebbed, struggling futilely as Mother's cells began its final assimilation, merging them together as one. _

_The Planet had fought bravely but just like its countless predecessors, it too falls._

_She watched the land around her crack open, tendrils of dark energy burst forth from the Planet's core in graceful arcs that began to twist and form into wings of pure darkness._

_The Chosen in the center, like a silver God before His ascension and she by His side. _

_As the Planet cried out its last, they ascended and into the darkness of the universe they went. _

* * *

Only three saw that dream.

One who broke it by screaming in fear; the other who felt pure terror for the first time in years but the last simply rose from his bed and walked to his desk, his vision were blurred but he does not need glasses for what he was about to do, his hands were experts enough.

As dawn broke before Midgar, Professor Hojo began to write.

* * *

**AN: **Un-betaed and work on the fly. Also, I realised that if I meant 'tentatively updated within a month', it meant no updates until a month past said deadline. Thank you for all your reviews, it's greatly appreciated. Forgive me for any spelling, grammar or continuity mistakes. Many thanks, again!


End file.
